The esoteric slash of an interminable whip--
you drove me seven fathoms from my birthplace
and shackled me to the beleaguered branches
of an aging chestnut tree.  The sky crumbled--
dripping flecks of saccharine rainclouds as though
dusting the unripe fields of complacent youth.

Lost for the third time in febrile musings
that twisted inconsequentials into gore-laden
giants, I cowered there in plain sight of deliverance.
Small wonder you had no patience with my
incessant hallucinations.  I do not blame you
for leaving me there, salted with infernal tears. 

04/27/2004

Posted on 04/27/2004
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